


Chatter

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Cold, Cuddle or Die?, Friendship, Gen, Hypothermia, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"... It wouldn't be good karma to let you die from the cold. Not that I believe in such things, of course..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chatter

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with that one scene where the boys are traversing that really frozen wasteland in one of the latter seasons that I can't remember the title of the episode... but any old basic cold place would work, too!

Merlin stared up at the overhang of the rock, trying to make his teeth stop chattering. There was a spell for warmth, but it wasn't that simple, and it wasn't that foolproof, and Arthur was curled up next to him.

His breath puffed into the air, turning into a visible cloud before floating away. He shivered violently, a chill shooting straight down his spine even in this cold, and he cursed Arthur, cursed his stupidity, cursed Morgana, and everything else in that moment. It wasn't that the weather was at fault; the weather was just doing what it was meant to do. It was their own faults for getting trapped in the barren wasteland that Merlin was pretty sure was turning into an icicle.

Or maybe _he_ was turning into an icicle. It wasn't really important which it was, he mused dully, as Arthur shifted next to him. His back pressed up against Merlin's, maybe unconsciously, and he could feel the heat through their thin layers of clothing.

Despite being so dog-tired, Merlin found that he couldn't sleep when he was so cold. Some lingering fear reared in his head; if he fell asleep now, he might not wake up. He didn't honestly know if it was cold enough yet for them to have contracted hypothermia, or if they could die in the time that they took a nap, for a few hours, whatever, but the thought was there, keeping his brain buzzing.

He jerked through another convulsions of tremors and curled up more tightly, impossibly, ducking his face into his neckerchief, squeezing his eyes closed, and trying to find warmth that wasn't there.

"Merlin."

"What...?" he mumbled. His lips felt numb, but then, his entire body did.

"Stop. _Squirming_." Arthur's voice sounded tight with irritation with the slightest hint of his teeth clicking together and barely contained exhastion.

"'m cold," Merlin muttered. "And numb."

"Yeah, well, join the club," Arthur muttered.

"And tired," Merlin continued, mostly just for something to break the silence. It left him with too much time to his thoughts. "And scared."

Arthur sighed heavily. Merlin blanched and steeled himself for being slapped, kicked, or pelted at with a rock, but, instead, Arthur just rolled over. "It's going to be okay, Merlin."

Merlin didn't open his eyes. It was a challenge and they burned in the cold, anyway. "You don't know that. We're out here in the middle of nowhere. Freezing," he added.

"Aren't you usually the one trying to give me pep talks?" Arthur asked.

Merlin would have smiled, but he just... didn't. "Don't see much to be peppy about."

"I thought you were tired."

"We might not wake up," Merlin retorted.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder, forcing him to roll over. He looked as though he was about to have some grand speech, but stopped abruptly. Merlin felt even colder for the prospect of something stopping Arthur's berating in its path.

"What?" he asked.

Arthur's eyebrows pulled together. "Nothing."

" _What_."

"It's probably not important," Arthur said slowly, "but your lips are blue."

The words processed slowly and Merlin shivered through them, the whole concept hitting him like a pillow rather than a brick. "Oh." It was all he could find to say. He pressed his numb fingers over his mouth.

"Hey, it might even be a good thing," Arthur continued. "If your lips freeze off, I won't have to listen to your witless babble."

Merlin laughed weakly, but the sound was pathetic. He felt leeched of life in a world where he might die before he could wake up. He shivered hard again, biting his lip in the process and cringing at the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Arthur huffed a breath and rolled over on his side to face him. "As much as I loathe to do this, survival is top priority. Come here."

Merlin blinked his eyes open again. He wasn't aware of closing them again. Arthur was looking at him expectantly, before his gaze snapped away to some point Merlin couldn't see and stayed there firmly.

"... What?" Merlin rasped.

"Just... get over here," Arthur replied. His eyes didn't look away from whatever they were staring at past Merlin's head.

Merlin found his consciousness rousing further and further, something like muted confusion and apprehension flooding his ice-cold veins. "Why?"

"... It wouldn't be good karma to let you die from the cold. Not that I believe in such things, of course, but..."

"Of course," Merlin said, "but I still don't see what you want."

"Oh, for the love of-" Arthur scowled and reached over, grabbing Merlin around his shoulders.

Merlin was about to protest, as loudly and energetically as he could manage in his freezing state, when Arthur pulled him close, directly up against his chest. Merlin stiffened. "Arthur-?"

"If you breathe a word of to _anybody_ , Merlin, I'll have your head on a plaque for my bedroom wall," Arthur replied dangerously.

Merlin's mind had clicked off, stuck somewhere between _you've basically just become Gwen's replacement, that's why he said to sleep on the left_ and _this is really the King of Camelot's chest you're burrowed against_. His heartbeat thumped loud in his ears, louder than the cold air whipping around the landscape, heat burning through his body in what was most assuredly a ridiculously red face.

But through the impropriety, the wonder and confusion, the flight-or-fight instinct marred with _he's going to use this to blackmail me_ , Arthur's body heat was sinking into Merlin's tense body and basic survival instincts kicked into place hard.

"... There's no way I can relax like this," Merlin muttered, although he let out a deep breath and tried to let his posture relax. It was easier said than done.

"Yeah, well," Arthur muttered, "it's no picnic for me, either." Merlin's hair ruffled with Arthur's breath and Merlin shivered again.

He licked his lips, tasting blood and cold air, swearing as he took in his motion. He could practically _feel_ his lips chaffing. He ducked his head against Arthur's chest, under his chin, pressing his face into the warmth of Arthur's clothes.

There was a pause before Arthur's chin dropped down to rest lightly on Merlin's head, staying there. His arms were still around his back; Merlin could feel their warm presence weighing heavily against his frigid back. He wondered if he should...

He shifted, making to tentatively snake his arms around Arthur's torso.

Arthur's head jerked up. "Oi, what are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes burning holes in the back of Merlin's head.

Merlin stopped. "I just-"

"No."

"It would be-"

"Not another word."

Merlin huffed but gave in, dropping his arms back to their previous positions. It was warm, so, so warm, tucked up against Arthur's chest. Not that it was particularly some place that he _wanted_ to be, but... Arthur sure was warm beneath that cold exterior.

... Merlin really wasn't _that_ surprised.

Arthur's chin descended on Merlin's head again and Merlin felt his hair ruffle when Arthur must have sighed.

"... Good night, sire," Merlin mumbled.

"Just go to sleep," Arthur replied. There was a certain bite to his tone that spoke volumes to his mood, but Merlin didn't miss the way Arthur's body pressed up infinitesimally closer as he relaxed, either.

It wasn't ideal, but at least it was warm, and, given the circumstances of their journey to begin with, Merlin wasn't sure that he would wish to be anywhere else, or with anyone else right now... no matter how awkward it really was.

But at least it was warm. Warmer.

Merlin sighed and gripped at Arthur's clothes, knowing that, if they survived this journey, he'd be expected to scrub the mud out of the fabric as soon as he got the chance.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanted them to have cold cuddles in a few of the episodes, but they never did.
> 
> I do not own _Merlin_. Thanks for reading!


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